


Iron Ice

by pitterpatterpot



Series: Throne Family [3]
Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 19:41:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16687738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pitterpatterpot/pseuds/pitterpatterpot
Summary: A collection of works from the Throne Family Series focusing on Manon and Dorian's lives.





	Iron Ice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Emjen_Enla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emjen_Enla/gifts).



> Ok! So this is to fill in one of the requests I got by Emjen_Enla for comfort stories for Dorian and Manon and Elide and Lorcan. Here's the Dorian and Manon one!

“Get the fuck out of bed.”

Dorian snarls right back at Manon. “Incase you didn’t notice, I’m sick.”

The witch prowls at the end of his bed, her iron nails scraping over the wooden frame to leave light scratches that deepen with every round. Dorian himself glares, covered by three blankets and sunken back into multiple pillows. His skin is paler then usual, icy blue eyes drained. If he had known that the witch was to fly down from the Wastes to visit him then Dorian would have dressed, organised a meal, anything to avoid her barging onto his room with clear anger. 

In all honestly, his cold is doing nothing but further provoking him to provoke her. A dangerous combination that gives reason for all citizens to be warned for their safety around the two. Ice is already starting to form where Manon scrapes her nails, a small act of anger and defiance. 

“I fly down and here you are, wrapped in pelts and blankets like some kind of pampered swine,” Manon seethes. 

“Again,” Dorian glares, “I am sick. If you had sent me a letter saying you were thinking of coming this could have been avoided.”

Manon narrows her eyes right back at him, halting in her pacing. “A letter. As if I must ask for permission on where I am allowed to go.”

“A letter so I can tell guards not to shoot when you come near!”

“Abraxos is resting in your gardens,” Manon snaps. “You’re lucky he wasn’t shot.”

Dorian refuses to admit how relieved he is that the wyvern is unharmed. “How is he?”

Manon’s mouth tightens as he body somehow softens. “Still heartbroken.”

Dorian can only nod. It’s easy to symphathize with the wyvern who lost his love and comrades. In her letters manon said they while Abraxos was gaining trust in the new Wyverns there was little anyone could do to cure his obvious sorrow. It’s obvious now why Manon flew him straight from the Wastes to Adarlan, curving slightly to avoid Terrasen. To save Abraxos from any further grief is clearly in the forefront of Manon’s mind, such as why she brought him to Adarlan to enjoy a change of scenery and the flowers in the garden. 

“Now get out of bed,” Manon kicks one of the beds legs, arms crossed.

Sucking in a deep breath, Dorian tries to soothe the dangerous chill that threatens to rise. “I’m sick.”

“You think I fucking care? Either stand and come to the dining hall with me or I’ll carry you. I’m already in a shitty enough mood seeing as how you’ll have no good meat for me.”

“Incase you’ve forgotten I am the king and this is my- shit Manon put me down!” 

The king struggles over her shoulder until she places him down, and allows him to follow her on foot. 

~~~

After dinner, when Dorian denied the staffs need to cook Manon’s meat (much to his disgust to watch her eat) they both walk back to Dorian’s room. His head aches with every pounding step, and he’s highly aware of Manon’s eyes on him as she travels only a few steps behind at best. It’s bad enough that every single guard either stares at her in awe, earning an iron-toothed smirk, or in deadly fear, still earning that iron-toothed smirk. 

“Thank you for your visit,” Dorian stops outside his room, finally done. “Give Abraxos my condolences, and have a nice flight back.”

“I’m not leaving.”

Of course she fucking isn’t. 

Rubbing at his forehead to push the headache back Dorian sags. “Look, witching-“

A snarl at that.

“-I’m going to bed,” Dorian flings open the door, shutting it behind him. 

Only for iron nails to embed themselves in the wood and fling it open. Manon stalks again into his room as if it’s her own.

Though considering the amount of times she’s been in here it may as well be. 

“Let me sleep,” Dorian finally growls, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “For the love of the gods, let me sleep woman.”

“I am no human woman.”

Muttering, Dorian turns back to his bed and walks towards it. He hears Manon follow him, stopping by his side as he gets into bed, her arms still crossed.

“If you don’t mind,” Dorian grits his teeth, closing his eyes, “I am going to try to sleep away this cold.”

“Fine,” Manon sighs, walking to the door and stepping out. “Try to stay warm.”

With that she shuts its behind her.

~~~

The princeling looked dead on his feet.

It was partly amusing, until she realised that he could barely stand. Forcing him to the dining hall to eat some soup was more than enough of a challenge. And then he had the nerve to be ungrateful for her effort.

But no point in fussing when she can search the grounds for Abraxos. The gardens bloom with almost every flower imaginable, and she has no doubt in her mind that she’ll find him sniffing the newly bloomed buds.  
One it would have angered her. Now it does nothing but offer a small piece of relief that the creature is starting to find some semblance of joy once again.

“What is someone of the likes of you doing here?”

Turning, Manon is net with what appears to be a smaller, chubbier, warped version of Dorian. Not even that with how the boys eyes are dull in comparison to the kings glacial blue. The younger boy has his eyes narrowed, arms crossed, without one of the most sour and spoiled looks Manon has ever had the displeasure of seeing.

“I,” Manon flashes her iron teeth, “am here to visit the king.”

The boys face pales at her teeth, then swells red with rage. “You’re a witch!”

“I am,” Manson’s smile twists. “You know, the species that helped save your asses during the war.”

Of course, a majority of the witch population tried to end them, but no need to bring that up now. She can practically see the blubbering rage swelling underneath the boys skin as he splutters.

“I’m Prince Holland,” he spits, as if the name holds the same weight as a death sentence.

“And I am the Witch Queen,” Manon clicks her iron nails together, a hand resting on a hip as she stares down, unimpressed. “The ruler of both the Iron Teeth and Crochan witches. I outrank you by far, little human.”

Then the words pour out of his mouth.

~~~

“I just met your swine of a brother!” Manon kicks open Dorians door and barges into the room, a whirlwind of iron and fury as she roars.

Dorian looks up from the book in his hand, face passive and expectant. “Oh, I thought I heard screaming. It woke me.”

Heaving, Manon resumes her pacing. “That insignificant toad found some interesting words to describe both Abraxos and me.”

Dorian places his book down, now concerned as he knows that any insult to Abraxos can be met by physical violence. “Please don’t tell me that you just killed my younger brother and one of my last living relatives.”

“No,” Manon hisses, leaning forward, forcing Dorian to recline back into the pillows as she looked over him. “I found enough restraint in myself to not end the swines life. You’re welcome.”

Dorian releases a small breath of relief. “I am sorry for whatever he said, if it’s any consolation.”

“It’s not,” Manon glares. “That little brat will one day try to dethrone you and take your crown.”

“The people don’t like him enough to allow that to happen,” Dorian says simply, waving a hand in dismissal. “They’d just either kick him out and make me king again or just not listen to him at all and only listen to me.”

Manon steps away with a withering glare. “Do you know what he called me?”

“No.”

She repeats the words.

Jolting, Dorian sits up, eyes wide. “Where the fucking hell did he learn that?” One part of him wants to burst out laughing, but the other part likes his head where it is. 

“I don’t care where he learnt it,” Manon growls. “I care about what he said. Now explain why that little runt hasn’t been thrown into the mud.”

“It would break my mothers heart,” Dorian covers his mouth with his hand as he hacks up wet coughs. 

“Lie down,” Manon growls. “I’m going to go get another bloody steak and you some food. If I see your brother on the way I’ll just get the soup.”

Dorian winces at the implication in her words. “Please don’t,” he calls out after her.

“No promises, princeling!”

Dorian collapses back. It’s hard enough to keep his mother from fainting every time he brings up Manon’s name. His brothers disembowelment won’t aid in that quest.

**Author's Note:**

> So this story in the series will involve all Dorian and Manon requests!


End file.
